


never been anywhere cold as you

by orphan_account



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Backstory, Gen, Hanging, Short One Shot, Suicide, distressing content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 18:29:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5138135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wes Gibbins is twelve years, three months and seventeen days old when his mother hangs herself in their dining room. One of her slippers has come off and slid to the floor, but the other hangs defiantly onto her cold foot as she sways from the ceiling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	never been anywhere cold as you

**Author's Note:**

> Just a look at Wes' mother's infamous suicide, and how I think it could have gone down. Plus, my little fuck you to the characters and fans of HTGAWM who say Wes had anything to do with his mother's death. I mean, goddamn. Go look at your life. Go look at your choices.

Wes Gibbins is twelve years, three months and seventeen days old when his mother hangs herself in their dining room. One of her slippers has come off and slid to the floor, but the other hangs defiantly onto her cold foot as she sways from the ceiling. It is a hot day, the day Wes’ mother kills herself, and not the nice kind of hot: the kind that makes all your clothes stick to your skin and gives you chafing on the insides of your legs if you run around too much.

Because of the heat, she smells pungent particularly quickly, and when Wes first comes home he thinks that a sewer has broken open or something. He gags, and thumps his school bag down next to the door, before taking off his shoes and laying them neatly on the rack. “Maman?” There’s no answer, but that isn’t unusual. Sometimes, Wes’ mother would reading or writing and be off in her own world, where no one bothered her or hurt her, and Wes had to be right in front of her before she even saw him.

The illusion of normality lasts a full three minutes, as Wes grabs a piece of fruit loaf, stuffs it in his mouth and washes it down with half a pint of milk and throws his coat over the bannister. “Maman!” Wes calls again, before putting down his drink and walking through to the sitting room, where his mother would usually be curled up. But she isn’t. Her notes are spread out over the floor, and the TV is going at a low volume, the five o’clock news humming away in the empty room.

He thinks he hears a creak from the dining room, and sees the door is ajar. Walking over, he starts to say that he’s home, and that he did well on the English test today, but the words die in his throat as he sees her solitary slipper on the linoleum floor and hears the creak of the rope from the rafter.

Wes doesn’t remember much after that.

.

_Hello, this is 911. What is your emergency?_

“My mom- mom! Mom, _please_ -”

_Young man, what’s happened? Can you tell me your name? Are you and your mother in any danger?_

“No, no- it’s just my mom. I’m fine. She’s- she’s hanging from the ceiling and I can’t get her down cause it’s too high, and I don’t think she’s breathing-”

_Hey, hey, it’s alright. Take some deep breaths. Can you do that for me?_

But- I don’t need help! You need to come help my mom and get her down quick-

(At this point in the recording, there was an audible thump and the boy down the line cried out. The operator began tracking the call.)

_Hey, are you alright?_

“She’s- she’s down. Maman? Maman? She’s not- not waking up. Maman!”

_Son, can you tell me your name and location? Deep breaths._

“I- my name’s Wes and I live at number 40B in the flats on Ablemarle Street- get here quick, she’s not, she’s not breathing and her neck’s all weird and-”

_Wes, can you stay on the line for me? Is your mother still not breathing?_

“N- no. She’s not. What do I do? What do I _do_ -“

_Can you sit tight for me, Wes? Try and keep your mom’s head elevated until the ambulance arrives. Can you do that for me Wes? Wes?_

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll- she’s gonna be alright, isn’t she?”

_We’ll do our very best, Wes. Have you elevated her head?_

“Yeah. Is she- is she dead? She can’t be dead. She’s very cold. Maman?”

_Can you tell me about your surroundings, Wes?_

“W-what?”

_Your surroundings. Is there anything sharp in the room, or any signs of a struggle?_

“I- um. It’s the dining room. It looks normal. The window is wide open, but it’s hot and we don’t have AC. There knives are where they always are. There’s an empty bottle of wine. Mom didn’t drink, though. The ro-rope has collapsed a bit of the ceiling. Maman? Maman!”

_Wes, is your front door unlocked? Our crew is almost with you._

“N-no. We keep it locked. I can’t- I can’t leave her. What if she-”

_Wes, it’s okay. It’s fine. Keep breathing. You are doing so well. Do you live with your dad, or do you know where he is at all?_

“Um, no- I never knew him. He’s probably somewhere in Haiti still.”

_Okay, what about friends? Do you have any godparents or uncles or aunts?_

“It’s just me and mom - she can’t be dead. I don’t have anywhere to go. Maman, Maman don’t leave me-”

(There was a crash and a crunch from the other end of the speaker. Wes cried out in fear.)

_Don’t worry, Wes. It’s just the crew. They’re coming to help._

“Maman? Maman! Mama!”

.

The death was ruled a suicide, the house was sold to the state in exchange for all the debts that had been left by Wes’ mother in order to come from Haiti in the first place, and Wes was slotted into a foster home that didn’t last two semesters.

It was a sad story, but nothing remarkable. Tragedies happen every day.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it, please leave reviews telling me what you thought of my interpretation!


End file.
